A fine bowl of THG’s delicious homemade granola for breakfast with some berries and yo, gurt. A good start to the day. We leave in fifteen minutes, for the body shop, to get the scrape repaired, again. More or less the same place as the last time. I clearly have a blind spot for that part of the car.
Tis a lovely start to the day in the shire. Perfect for a weekend except the weekend it is not. Not that it matters, much. I do have a day of toil ahead. The pick and shovel await in the shed. A shed is a suitable place to keep a pick and shovel. In my case it is a keyboard and mouse, a touchpad and two monitors.
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Back from the body shop and it sounds as if it has started to rain. Just made it to the shed in time. Dropped THG off at the gym en route and need to pick her up at eleven fifty. She is an active girl.
The milk arrived this morning at five oh one. I checked and am pretty sure it was the same guy who made it at 03:17 on Friday. There was a four fifty nine delivery on a Monday a few weeks ago so the lateness is not unprecedented 🙂 We don’t have enough data yet to see if a pattern is emerging but watch this space. As of today I’m also checking to see if it is the same milkman every day. Screenshots. Big brother is watching.
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There is a north wind a blowing. Winter hasn’t finished with us yet. I may light the fire tonight. My mother used to lie in front of the fire when we lived in Waunfawr. When we moved to the Isle of Man our house only had radiators, and initially very poor electric ones at that. She used then lie in front to the radiator but it was never the same 🙂
Leaves dance a random jig around the garden. The lawn, which I did clear of leaves in the autumn but which was soon liberally covered with them again, is now almost leaf free. A shipment of peas is on its way for planting in the raised beds when the time is right.
We just need to hold on now. Hold our nerves until spring arrives in its fullness of glory. The cacophony of newly born chicks. The increase in insect activity in the garden. The planting of my wildflower meadow. A time when I can move operations to the deck in front of the shed. Not quite there yet. May probably. April maybe.
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Watching the great sheep gather again. Wonderful programme. Fantastic concept. The convergence of beautiful landscape poetry and sheep. Who would have thought there was beauty in sheep. It’s about the farming way of life. The gentle language that accompanies the distant bleating sends a shiver down my back.
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Darkness has descended upon the back garden of Tref and THG and thus the shed. In contrast, inside the shed is brightly lit and I am playing some tunes. Feeling somewhat relaxed and mellow. Currently playing Psycho Killer. Perhaps not the mellowest of tunes but enjoying it I am. Life is short. Play Psycho Killer. Qu’est que c’est.
How does it feel? Don’t think you have to feel. I do though. I breathe in deeply and let my mind escape. I am currently on the LAst TRain to CLarksville. Capitals deliberately accidentally left in.
I see no lights on in the house. She is in there though. Probs around the front. Doing stuff. THG had some pals over for lunch today. They left at around four pee em. A good lunch. Finest kind. I think of her often, THG. Smile. My girl.
People don’t let their emotions be seen. When I think of THG I smile. She might not like that I speak about her like this in public but it is unlikely people will read it here.
She. Often when we pass each other we sneak a kiss. I say “quick kiss nobody looking”. Sometimes I pat her on the backside. It’s just me and her. We have known each other for thirty eight years.